The Lark, the Wren, and the Hippogriff
by Grey Lady
Summary: Green Eggs and Politics, don't ask me what the two have in common. i put drama because there's action (well, not yet, but there will be), romance, and mystery, you know, everything. and i'm not telling you whose going to end up with who, so you have to
1. Default Chapter Title

The Lark, the Wren, and the Hippogriff  
Chapter One  
Green Eggs and Politics  
  
Sorry bout the political blurb at the beginning...kind of a background for everything else that is going on, but oh well. Within a couple chapters I hope to be back at hogwarts, but for now...well, you'll just have to read and find out, won't you?  
  
Nine men, or rather, seven men and two women, sat in a small, cramped room. Not that the room wasn't elegant, but it didn't seem quite big enough to hold the magnitude of the issue discussed within it.  
  
The issue being the fate of the wizard world.  
  
"Fudge has withdrawn his support, Albus." A tall, red haired man leaned heavily on the table. "Without it, we've got no official connections with Austria."  
  
"There's always the unofficial." Another man spoke up, tiredness etched on his face. They had been working for days.  
  
"We know what the 'unofficial' would be, Black," a tall, greasy haired wizard snarled. "If you want to go down that path, maybe you could be our ambassador to the dementors, with your infamous 'connections' and all."  
  
Sirius raised his wand threateningly, but one look from Dumbledore and he lowered again.  
  
It was not, however, Dumbledore who spoke, but instead a raspy old women. "If you two want to sit there fighting like you were back in second year you'll be doing half of Voldemort's work for him." She aimed a beady eye at Sirius. "No 'pranks'."  
  
"Yes, Mrs Figg." Sirius did indeed sound like a rebuked second year.  
  
Arabella flashed a hard glare at Snape before turning to Dumbledore. "I think Sirius may have a point, though." She softened a bit. "My son..."  
  
The woman to her left patted her arm gently. Arabella brushed away the tear that was forming.   
  
Mundugus Fletcher, looking eccentricly awake and bouyant to the other eight occupants, leaped out of his chair. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "Lady Theresa! We could send someone to her..."  
  
Arabella's scowl hardened as Minerva, taking a firmer grip on the lady's hand, glared at Mundugus.  
  
"If there's trouble in Austria, she's at the heart of it," A new voice growled. It's speaker became suddenly twitchy, and his glass eye roved around the room as though someone would murder him then and there for making that statement.  
  
"Well then it seems to me to be the precise thing to do." Minerva spoke up for the first time. "If she's at the root of it, we can use her to find the weeds."  
  
"Minerva, dear, aren't you Transfiguration?" Across the table, a man, shabbier than the rest, raised an eyebrow. "No matter. I agree with you, despite you analogies." He smiled benevolently at her.  
  
"I appriciat you support, Remus," Minerva muttered. But she smiled nonetheless.  
  
"So are we agreed?" The red haired man spoke up again. "We'll send someone to find out about the dark magic brewing in Austria?"  
  
Gradually, heads around the table consented. Dumbledore smiled. "I think, Arthur, we may have finally reached an agreement." His blue eyes twinkled.  
  
"Thank Gordic," Arthur Weasly muttered. "Now..."  
  
  
The nine wearied diplomats were not the only ones discussing the fate of the world. How could they be, when there were those who would oppose them?  
  
Lucius Malfoy sat on the edge of his desk, wearily listening to Macnair and Crabbe endlessly argueing.  
  
"Stop!" He yelled, when he could listen no longer. "Why can't we just give him what he wants?" Macnair smiled as Crabbe began to toe his shoe, eyes becoming fixated on the carpet.  
  
"We don't have anyway of getting to Potter," he muttered. "Not when he's at home, not when he's at school, either."  
  
"You blunderhead!" Lucius was clearly at the end of his patience. "Does my son not go there? Does YOUR son not go there? Really..."  
  
"Potter's not going to tell them anything," Crabbe told him, his eyes slowly creeping upwards. "The only people he tells anything to is Hermione and those damn Weasly's..." He muttered several other nasty curse words.  
  
But Lucius ignored him, stoking his goatee thoughtfully. "I have an idea...  
  
But he wouldn't say anymore on the subject, but instead wrote a long, detailed letter to one of his cousins, asking about the visit her daughter Wren was making this summer.  
  
  
Not everyone was unhappy. Ginny, in fact, with red hair that proclaimed her her father's daughter and a beauty that claimed she was her mother's, couldn't have been more so.  
  
It had all started a week into the summer.  
  
"Hey Gin, guess what?" Ron ambled, or rather stumbled, down the stairs to breakfast. "The love of your life is coming to visit."   
  
Ginny glared at him, while Mrs. Weasly rebuked her son. "Now Ron, don't tease Ginny." She placed two plates full of green eggs, sadly without ham, in front of her children. "So Harry's coming to visit, is he?"  
  
"Mum!" Ginny shreiked indignantly, lopping some eggs onto her plate. Her fork dropped and was soon buried within the enormous mounds of egg.  
  
"Sorry sweetie." She handed George some salt to take over to the table as he walked by. "When's he coming?"  
  
"As soon as we can get him here," Ron said vehemently. "I was thinking of, I dunno, maybe driving in...  
  
"RON WEASLY YOU WILL NOT GO NEAR YOUR FATHER'S CAR!" Mrs Weasly spun around, spatchula in hand. "Which," she added, with an icy glare to her husband, "Has had all of the magic taken off of it, I presume."   
  
Arthur Weasly, who had been slumped forward in his green eggs, looked up, saw his wife's glare, quickly nodded, and fell once again into the heaps of green on his plate.  
  
"Awww, I was just joking, mum," Ron said, rubbing his nose slightly. It was pink. "He sent me a letter begging to come over, so I told him we'd drop by."  
  
At this, Mr. Weasly perked up slighty, bits of eggs still stuck in his hair. "But they used some sort of hard, muggle goo, to close up their fireplace. I don't suppose we could create a gateway in their stove." He frowned, scrunching his nose up. "You know, Molly..."  
  
"Arthur, I said NO," Mrs Weasly looked quite forceful.  
  
"He could take the Knight Bus!" Fred said brightly, coming into the kitchen. "You know, Ernie's seen some pretty weird magical pr-" At his mother's stern glare, he changed his word choice. "-practicioners?" His twin gave him a look that clearly suggested Fred should have been able to come up with something better. Mrs. Weasly looked suspicious, but didn't press the matter.  
  
"I will not have Harry traveling all the way out here by himself!" She exclaimed, remembering the cause of the conversation. "They're must be a port key somewhere around there..."  
  
"I could set one up!" Mr. Weasly exclaimed, suddenly looking brighter though he still wasn't allowed to use the car. "It wouldn't be hard..." And he rambled on, musing to himself about the various things he would need.  
  
All this time, Ginny had been pretending to become engrossed in the greeness of her eggs, but her mind was racing from the moment she heard the word 'Harry'. Well, actually she couldn't think because her heart was beating too loudly.  
  
"Ginny's in love," George sang, only to find peices of green egg stuck in his hair and Ginny's fork waving menacingly. Then Ginny changed her mind. "Maybe I am." She sat down, sweeping her nightgown under her. George and Fred looked faintly dissapointed.  
  
"Well now she's not going to be as much fun to tease," Fred muttered, pouting.  
  
  
  
Three days later, after many enchantments, curses, blunders, and a note from the Ministry reminding Arthur that degradable food objects cannot be used as Port Key's, and Harry was there, trunk, owl, scar, and all. Looking slightly bewildered at having touched (or rather, been punched by) Dudley, only to find himself seconds later in the Burrow. Authur Weasly recieved another notice from the ministry that humans were not supposed to be port key's, either, but everyone was so glad to have Harry there that not even Mrs. Weasly repriminded him.  
  
"Harry you've gotton so thin!" Mrs. Weasly exclaimed, promptly preparing a dish of all the foods she could muster up in a moments notice, and setting them before Harry.  
  
"Oh, c'mon, mum, Harry wants to go play Quidditch!" Fred exclaimed, pulling Harry towards the door.  
  
"No he doesn't!" George told his brother. "We want's to see our-" with a swift glance at Mrs. Weasly, he dropped his voice "you-know..."  
  
"Hey, he's my friend!" Ron interjected, shoving himself between Fred and George. Harry still wore a slightly bewildered look. Ginny, sitting at the table, caught his eye and smiled; she was thoroughly amused.  
  
"Umm..." Harry looked at the fighting brothers, who stopped abruptly. Harry frowned, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "I guess that was all I had to say. You can continue fighting, if you want." Fred and George looked ready to do just that, but Mr Weasly, once again displaying his common sense, said  
  
"Why don't you ask Harry what he wants to do?" He asked, looking over the Daily Prophet.  
  
Now Harry definitely looked uncomfortable. "Well...I did bring my broom...-"  
  
He would have said more, but Fred was already dragging Harry out the door. Sulking, Ron and George followed. Ginny smiled again, dusted off the toast crumbs from her lap, and walked out, taking her time.  
  
"You don't play Quidditch!" Ron exclaimed as she walked on the porch.  
  
"Yes I do," Ginny told him simply. "Did you not notice that you haven't had a broom for two years?" Ron thought for a moment, blushing.  
  
"Hey!" he exclaimed suddenly. "Who told you you could take my broom?"  
  
"Mum." She smiled at her older brother with superiority Ron could have killed her for.  
  
"So what am I supposed to use?"  
  
"There's a mop in the closet."  
  
"Gin-ny!"  
  
"Well, there is."  
  
"Someone can use my broom," Harry said shyly, listening while Fred and George flew twenty feet above them, trying to knock eachother off of their brooms in some bizzarre form of muggle chicken-fighting.  
  
"DIBS!" Ron exclaimed, almost before the words were out of Harry's mouth. He grabbed the broom and lifted into the air to join his brothers.  
  
"Where's your broom?" Harry asked Ginny, noticing that she didn't follow her brother.  
  
"Oh, I broke it last year." Ginny frowned. "Actually, the old thing died on me." Under Harry's gaze, she blushed. "I did play Quidditch...just not in awhile. And Ron hasn't seen his broom in two years." Her chin stuck out every so slightly.  
  
Harry sat down on the edge of the porch, chuckling slightly. The wind was growing heavier, and it was beginning to drizzle just the slightest bit. Ginny sat down next to him. And there was silence between them for a few moments as they listened to the three brothers yell less than endearing terms at one another.  
  
"Are the Dursley's really so bad you would want to come here?" Ginny asked him, disbelieving as she watched her brothers.  
  
Harry had a slow, smothering smile that made Ginny feel glad she was sitting down because her knees would have melted. "Trust me, this is like heaven." He tipped his head over to turn his smile to her. Ginny willed herself not to blush.  
  
Suprisingly, she didn't. "Do you know whether Hermione's coming?" She immediatly regreted the question the moment it was out of her mouth. The last thing she wanted to do right now was talk about another girl, even if it was Hermione.  
  
"I think she's staying with Viktor right now, but Ron mentioned her stopping by for a couple weeks on her way back from Bulgaria." Harry smiled, recalling Ron's exact words, which had been something along the lines of ...well, I made her promise she'd stop by, though I don't why I did, she'll probably stink from coming in close contant with that nasty, vile... it had gone on, using several more terms that Harry didn't care to remember.  
  
Ginny watched him smile, and couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking of Hermione. He had that glassy look in his eye, which led her to believe he was star struck. Wonderful, she thought. But she didn't move.  
  
Harry realized he had drifted off, and snapped back to the present. Actually, hearing Ron kamikazi to the ground clued him in. Harry lifted an eyebrow.   
  
"Is my broom okay?" He teased.  
  
"Nice of you to ask how I am," Ron said huffily, but he knew Harry was joking. "Yes, your brooms fine. Do you want it?" He offered, ableit reluctantly.  
  
Harry shook his head, without looking at Ginny. "No, thanks. I haven't touched a broom in quite awhile now; I believe if I went anywhere near your brothers I'd end up like you in half the time."  
  
Ron looked down at his now mud covered robes.  
  
"Yeah, well..." But Ron was to happy at not having to give away his broom that he didn't care to notice anything else. "Your loss, then." And he zoomed back up, probably to get beaten back down again.  
  
The rate of Ginny's heart had increased slightly when Harry had turned down Ron's offer of the broom, but she stubbornly refused to show it. She'd taken out her memories of the past three years the other day, and gone over them with steadfast embarrassment as she realized how her brothers had no trouble detecting her crush on Harry.  
  
They sat in silence a few moments longer. Ginny grew slightly impatient.   
  
"I should probably go in." She stood up.  
  
Harry looked faintly suprised, lines etching his face in the dim twilight. "Okay. Good night."  
  
Ginny walked across the porch footsteps echoing across the symphony of night. "Night," she said, closing the screen door behind her.  
  
Ginny could have laughed, or broken down into tears. Of all her dreams and fantasy's about the famous Harry Potter, she had never thought she would be the one leaving him. But, there was that stubborn Weasly pride...  
  
"They were looking mighty cozy," George commented from above, glancing down at where Harry now sat, alone. The brothers were under temporary truce.  
  
"Much like you and :cough:Alicia :couch:, if I recall correctly," Fred said, his eyes gleaming.  
  
"What's so bad about that?" George asked. "She's prettier than Angelina."   
  
Fred scowled in mock outrage. "How dare you say so!" He glanced at Ron, who was still looking down at the spot left by Ginny. In sudden acceleration, Fred pelted into Ron, knocking him into George.  
  
"Hey!" George yelped.  
  
The fight continued.  
  
  
  
Well, that was my first fic. Not really, but my first fic under this name. And no, I'm not telling you who i used to be, because my other self is still writing. So, r/r, tell me if you like it, it will be fairly long, and not nessicarily g/h...and other romances will develope, in case you hadn't noticed, there's been absolutely nothing so far about the lark of the hippogriff, and only a short blurb about the 'wren.'  



	2. Default Chapter Title

The Lark, the Wren, and the Hippogriff   
Chapter Two  
Birds in Flight  
  
well, i wasn't going to continue, but i got such a nice review i decided to anyhow. Less political junk this time, i think. More plot.  
  
  
"Give it back!" Ron's face was alight with fury.  
  
"Now, why would I do that?" Fred grinned up at his brother. A recent growth spurt had made Ron taller than his brother, but there were two of Fred and only one of Ron.  
  
Fred tossed the letter across the kitchen to the other Fred, under the alias George. George caught it with mischeivous delight, waiting until Ron stormed across the room, and tossing it lithely back to Fred.  
  
"Fred, I need to see whether she's coming or not!" Ron looked positively furious.  
  
"Oh, let's see, shall we?" Fred asked as his twin came up behind Ron and cursed him with a full body bind. Ron was frozen in place, just inches away from the fought over letter. Fred took the letter out of the small white enevelope with neat green handwriting.  
  
"Hmm...dear Ronsipoo...I can't tell you how much I missed you..." Fred looked at his brother through puppy like eyes. "I'm coming tommorrow, so make sure you're prepared to snog...and snog...and snog..." Fred continued off dreamily, and George decided to take over.   
  
"I'm sooo sorry about Vicky...you know I don't like anyone but you...I can't wait to see you tommorrow...luuuuv, your Hermioninny." George looked at his brother though tear conjured eyes. "Awwwww...so sweet." He smiled sympathetically as Ron struggle to speak.  
  
"Mvvv mph hem dham mhmher!" Ron managed to get out through lips clamped shut.  
  
"What was that?" Fred leaned closer to his brother, hand cupped around his ear. "I didn't quite hear."  
  
"MMVVV MHE HM DAM LMHER!"  
  
"What was that?" Harry asked, rubbing his eyes as his stumbled down the stairs. "Ron wants a ham leper?"  
  
The spell loosed, and Ron snatched the letter from George's hand. "I wanted the damn letter," he said through clenched teeth unfolding it.  
  
"Oh, is Hermione coming?" Ginny followed Harry in her tattered nightgown.  
  
"Yes," Ron said, still glaring at his brothers. "She's coming tommorrow, by Floo powder." The twins were still chortling over their prank. "And she's not snogging with anyone, me or Krum."  
  
"Snorkling?" Harry asked tiredly. "Hermione's snorkling?"  
  
Fred and George looked at eachother, shared mischeif in their eyes. "Hey, Gin, have you and Harry started 'snorkling' yet?" Harry looked up, finally realizing what they had meant. Fortunately, he didn't need to conjure up any brainpower to reply.  
  
"Oh, god no," Ginny said, laughing slighly. Harry looked taken aback. "Pass the toast please."  
  
Four sets of eyebrows looked at Ginny, then at eachother. Fred and George, for the first time ever, were totally speechless. Ron once he realized what Ginny had just said, became absolutely delighted, and began humming softly.  
  
"Harry got dissed."  
  
"Shut up, Ron," Ginny told her brother. "All I said was I didn't want to kiss him."  
  
Enlightnment was beginning to dawn on Harry, and he frowned. "You know, I'm pretty sure that somewhere along the line I just got insulted-"  
  
"Twice," Ron added gleefully.  
  
"- but I don't think I want to figure out how." Harry still looked absolutely stunned.  
  
  
Wren Astrel draped herself over the absurdly purple chair, looking at her cousin (or second cousin, she wasn't really sure) with slight mocking. Her lip curled up slightly as he pace under her gaze, scowling every once and awhile.  
  
Abruptly, he stopped, his grey eyes shifting over to meet hers for the first time.   
  
"I trust your mother told you about the circumstances that just arose," he told her, his eyes telling her that he would tell her again anyway. Wren sighed, and positioned herself more comfertably on the ugly velvet chair.  
  
"Master wants Harry Potter," he told her, his eyes darting uneasily around the room. "So we're going to get him."  
  
"Through me?" Wren lifted dark eyebrows over her pale face.  
  
"Through you." Lucius didn't condesend to sneer. "And my son. Have you met him?" There was an odd light in Lucius's eyes, one Wren wasn't sure she like. That was a Malfoy for you.  
  
"So what's the plan this time?" Wren delibrately made her voice bored. "Hmm...attack Hogwarts so we can all die? Better yet, go face on with famous Harry himself, so we can suffer yet another humiliating defeat."   
  
Lucius bristled, recalling what had happened a bare two months ago. "Every person," he began, stressing the word person as though to indicate that his Master was not included, "has a weakness. Harry's is his friends. If we attack them, he's as good as ours."  
  
"Really?" Wren feigned suprise. "I suprised you managed to come up with such an intricate theory. And pray tell, do we attack the Burrow, guarded by Ministry magic, all those dumb Weasly's, and Harry Potter himself? Or are we going to lead a magnificent rampage to conquer Krum Kastle?"  
  
Lusius sneered. "I am sure, Wren, that in your fifteen years you are by far wiser than me." The nasty smile on his mouth indicated otherwise. "But let's just pretend your not, okay?" Condesention seeped into his voice. "No, we are going to use Hogwarts-"  
  
"Better and better," Wren muttered, sullen.  
  
Lucius continued as though nothing had happened. "-internally. With you and my son-"  
  
"What a wonderfully partner." Sarcasm dripped from her voice.  
  
"-we should be able to get to Potter." Lucius glared at her. He really didn't feel like talking to her longer. "My son knows the plan. You can go talk to him." He sat down at his desk, flipping through the papers there. Looking up, he realized with dismay that Wren was still there.   
  
"You're dismissed," he told her.  
  
"Why, thank you." Wren gave him a look of feigned innocence. "Did i tell you how much it meant to me when Mum told me my second-cousin Lucius said I could come stay?" Her grey eyes danced with mischeif. "And to be useful, on top of that? You have no idea how much-"  
  
"Wren?" Lucius cut her off impatiently.  
  
"Ye-es?" Wren perched herself on his desk.  
  
"Leave. Now."  
  
Wren sauntured out, closing the door lightly behind her. As soon as it clicked shut, she leaned back heavily, pretended hurt gone. She hated her mother's cousin with a passion.  
  
"Well, well." A low voice drawled from behind her. "If it isn't my good cousin Wren Astrel." He moved to drape his arm around her.  
  
Wren shoved it off. "Once removed, Draco. Don't make us any closer than is absolutely nessacary."  
  
Draco pouted, for a moment looking slightly like his cousin. They both had the same, steel grey eyes and pale skin, but Draco had wavy, silver blond hair and Wren had a dark brown stringy mass. "Did he tell you the plan?" His eyes glinted.  
  
"No." Wren scowled. "What is it? Wait, let me guess, a suicide mission?"  
  
Draco smiled sarcastically back. "Nothing quite that dramatic, dear cousin." Wren muttered something about 'once removed.' Draco ignored her. "It's quite simple, really. I assume you know Hermione Granger?"  
  
Wren glared at him. "Yes, dunderhead. My mother's only been in Voldie's circle since before your father."   
  
Draco ignored both the implied and the blunt insult. "Well then, it's easy. You become Hermione, and Hermione becomes a Wren." He received the satisfation of mild astonishment on Wren's face.  
  
"Really?" She seemed at least slighty intrigued. "And how, pray tell, the we accomplish that?"  
  
Draco grinned and launched off into the explantion.  
  
  
Buckybeak the Hippogriff was enjoying a very thorough grooming, the first one he'd had in awhile. He let out a long trill of relief, glad to get all the mud and dirt out of his once beautiful feathers and shiny chesnut coat.  
  
He listened with intrest to the conversation between the man he had spent the last year with and a women he had never met before. For a human, she seemed old, with wrinkling skin and peircing blue eyes.  
  
"Be careful," she was telling the man. "Lady Theresa is tricky. Very, very tricky." Her eyes glistened with tears.  
  
"Don't worry, Mrs. Figg." Sirius showered a grin on the older lady. "She can't touch me and Bucky here. Besides, she thinks we're just another one of Sean's dumb relatives."  
  
"I never really knew why he didn't tell her the full truth," Mrs Figg told him, sighing. "He seemed so blinded by love...and yet she knows absolutely nothing about who he was..." She sighed again, longer and deeper. "He used to have a hippogriff, you know."  
  
Sirius laid a gentle hand on his former teacher's shoulder. "I'll redeem your son, Mrs Figg. I promise."  
  
  
  
You know, I think there's actually two Hippogriffs...oh well. Anyhow, i know it sucked, but please r/r anyhow. Out of kindness to my old ghostly self. 


End file.
